Moving On
by Fey Phantom
Summary: Follow up to Choosing Paths [read first!] How do you let go of the past when something so terrifying and terrible has happened to you? Sometimes, all you need is the support that’s been there all along. Rated for attempted suicide and references to rape.


_AN:_ Okay, I know I said that I was never going to continue _Choosing Paths_ but, to be perfectly honest, I foresaw this story about just as much as I foresaw the last. Anyway, if you haven't read _Choosing _Paths yet, please go and do that now before you read this fic. Otherwise, you'll find yourself completely lost. Okay, so this one's centred around Sam after the 'event'. To really get inside her head on the matter I've put _most_ of it in 1st person point of view. So, this is a friendship fic, you'll see what I mean. Please read and review and enjoy. ;)

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Danny Phantom or its characters. I'm just an obsessed fan procrastinating on other aspects of my life by writing fanfics.

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**Moving On**

By Fey Phantom

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It was a day like any other. I was at my usual bookstore after they finally agreed to let me back in. At the end of a night of listening to morbid poetry, I left and began on my path to home. But I was stopped almost immediately and dragged into an alleyway where the man tried to – he was _going_ to – that doesn't matter anyway. Dash saved me, _Dash_ of all people. Since that night though, I haven't felt whole. The man _did_ rape me, just not physically. He took away my power. He forced himself on top of me. He made me weak and defenceless. And in the end, I felt like nothing.

At night, I still feel his breath on my neck. I still feel his knees pinning me down and his hands holding my wrists. Sometimes I'll wake up in sweat and shaking and I'll rub my wrists just to make sure there's nothing there. I remember his scent, a drunken, revolting scent which makes me sick. I feel like I live half my life in the bathroom now, being sick. And those eyes, I see them glinting everywhere I go. I can't get away from them. They'll be there, watching me, for the rest of my life, I'm sure.

Danny and Tucker have noticed the change in me. They say I seem a lot more withdrawn and I'm always in the bathroom or rubbing my wrists nonchalantly. They asked about the bruise on my cheek and the limp in my walk the Monday after _it_ happened. I told them I got into a fight with a stuck up snob but although Tucker seemed to buy it, Danny sure as hell didn't. He hasn't stopped bothering me about the supposed change in me, although I'm sure I have been acting the way I used to, at least I've made a conscious effort to. He corners me every now and then and asks what's wrong and I feel short of breath. I can't stand being backed into a place where I can't get away. It terrifies me. But I can't tell him either. He wouldn't understand. Then I'd lose him too. Then he'd tell Tucker and I'd be alone. They'd think I was dirty, vile. How could I let myself end up in that situation? And I had to rely on Danny's bully to help me out. He'd look down upon me and I don't think I could take that. I need things the way they were before. I need to hunt ghosts and do homework and carry on with my normal life, the life that seems to have died in me.

The clock ticks on the wall. Five minutes until lunchtime. I rub my wrists. Mr. Lancer, who teaches English to all grades now, is droning on at the front. His voice is low. I can hear a growl in it. It's the man's voice. He's telling me that there's no escape. And there isn't. If I get up now and leave, everyone will know there's something wrong. I sit there, rubbing my wrists raw and trying to tune out _his_ voice. I'm shaking. I have my eyes closed and all I can think is that I need to be still. If he doesn't notice me, he won't hurt me.

"Sam?" Danny asks. His voice cuts the air around me and I feel safe again. I look over at him. He's looking at me with curiosity and worry. I realize he must have seen me shaking.

"Yeah, I'm – uh – fine," I hear myself say. "It's cold in here, isn't it?" I rub my arms pretending to be chilled. He raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything more. I can see sweat glistening on his forehead and I realize how stuffy the class actually is. So much for my cover-up.

The bell rings and we go to lunch. I walk alongside Danny, staring down at the floor. I'm afraid that if I look up, I'll see _his_ eyes again, watching me. I follow Danny's lead instead, hoping he won't notice. But he does. "Sam, what's wrong? You look really down. Please, talk to me."

"Huh? Oh, nothing's wrong," I say in that old voice of mine. I want to scream. I want to break down. But here I am, smiling stupidly at my best friend. "My mother just bought a new dress for me and I'm trying to figure out a way to get rid of it."

His focus returns to the hallway and he sighs. I wonder briefly if he believes me and then he says, "I could come over after school. Then she wouldn't ask you to try it on right away." He smiles at me and I smile back, thinking fast.

"No! It's okay. I got it covered." I can't have him there. He'll find out. I'll break down. I'll lose him. He changes the conversation to Algebra. I let out my breath. We stop by his locker and then go off to the cafeteria. I sit down at our usual table and he meets up with Tucker in the lunch line. A few minutes later, the boys are at the table, putting their trays of greasy meat down in front of me. I feel sick.

"Where's your meal Sam?" Danny asks with concern in his voice. I look up at him.

"I forgot it." That's a lie. I don't know if I can eat lunch anymore. Whenever I eat, the food just tastes like dust from that alleyway and I end up in the bathroom again. It would be too noticeable if I ate and threw up after every meal at school. Danny would think I was anorexic.

"That's the third time this week," Tucker announces. I want to punch him as if he'd let loose a huge secret, even though it really wasn't a secret at all.

I look up at the two of them, and see their worried expressions. I feel so guilty. "I've just had other things on my mind this week, I guess. Besides, I've been eating lots at home." They don't say anything.

The rest of the day carries on and I manage somehow to make it through it. As soon as the final bell rings, I mutter a 'see ya later' to Danny and Tucker and am off to my house. I run straight up to my room and open the window. If I don't have fresh air, I fear that I'll start smelling him again. I can still smell him on my clothes no matter how many times I wash them. I lie down on my bed and close my eyes. I try not to think and just fall asleep but his image surfaces in my mind and he taunts me. He's laughing at me. Telling Dash that Dash can have me when he's done. Dash just stands there and does nothing. The man holds me down and the air is pushed from my lungs by his knees. I struggle to breathe, to get free. I try to yell out but I can't make a sound. He hits me and tells me that I'm his. I'm nothing anymore. I jump forward and find myself sitting up in bed. I rub my wrists.

That sickening smell is back. The windows are closed. The maid's been in my room. I run to the bathroom and lock the door then fall to my knees and let go of my stomach contents into the silvery toilette bowl. I feel his presence. He's still there. I leave and hope to leave him behind. I even lock the door from the outside and hope he's stuck in there. I go back to my room and open the window. I'm shaking again.

His laughter echoes in my ears. I turn and see him, standing there. He walks up to me and I try to escape but I find myself trapped in a corner of the room. He's advancing upon me, like a predator coming after its prey. I try to scream out, I try to call for help, but my voice fails and my cries become nothing more than squeaks. I fall down the wall to the floor. His grasp closes in on my wrists. I try to throw him off and I manage to get one of my hands loose. I reach up to my dresser and grab my letter opener. I stab at his hand and feel his grip loosen and disappear. My blood drips from the cut. It feels good. It's a relief. It's like the pressure of his grip is flowing away with the blood and I can't help but enjoy it. I cut my other wrist and let that pressure go, too.

I'm sitting here, at the back of my room, in complete satisfaction. As I feel my grip on consciousness falling away, I feel _him_ leaving too. I smile. The drops of blood running down my arms are just as pleasant as the water running from my eyes. It's warm and peaceful the way it flows so gently over my skin. "Sam?" I hear my name called. But I don't care. I don't care for anything anymore. "Sam?" The voice is getting louder. I recognize it like a voice from an old childhood memory. It's a voice I've always loved to hear. "Goodbye, Danny," I mumble. And I fall into peaceful darkness.

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Humming. I hear humming. It's not the hum of nature, but of machine. There are beeps too. And bangs. And a clock ticking. It's counting the seconds so slowly. I open my eyes and see a white ceiling. It isn't my ceiling. I don't know where I am but I hate the lightness of the ceiling. I prefer black.

I vaguely remember what happened. I remember cutting myself. I remember the man leaving. He's gone, I hope for good. I don't hear him now and all I smell is the alcoholic smell of disinfectant. It's the smell Tucker hates; the smell of hospitals. That's where I am, at a hospital. I lift my head a bit and look around. Danny's fallen asleep in a chair next to my bed. He's flopped over and resting his head on his arms on my bed. I smile at him and remember him shouting my name. He was at my house. I wonder how long I've been out for. I look up at the clock. It's nine thirty. My parents were away. I wonder if they got a message from the hospital yet. Assuming Danny phoned the hospital immediately, I've probably been here for four hours. I wonder how long it took them to stitch me up.

"Mmmm…" Danny stirs. He opens his eyes wearily and then is at full alert when he sees me. He remembers what happened. "You're awake!" he exclaims. I don't think I've ever seen a person look as relieved as he does now. I nod. "You really freaked me out," he frowns. I feel guilty but can't bring myself to say it so I just let him continue talking. "Sam, I was worried about you. I know you've been hiding something from me, so I went to your place after school to talk to you. If I hadn't – if I wasn't there – why did you do it?"

I could see Danny trying desperately to understand. But I knew he wouldn't and I told him so. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me. Please Sam. You're my best friend. Please, I want to help you. You can trust me. I won't hurt you, you know that." It was true, I did know that.

"Something happened," I hear myself say. For the second time today, I'm not thinking about what words are coming out of my mouth. I don't know what is bringing me to do this, but I can't stop myself. I'm bearing my soul out to Danny, in hopes that he will save me. "Two weeks ago, when I got that bruise…" I pause and look at him. He's looking at me with confusion and worry. It's that look he's been giving me since _it_ happened. He puts his hand on my shoulder and I feel his warmth. I feel more confident with his touch. "A man attacked me." I look at him with my own fear and I see him startled. He didn't expect _this_. I'm afraid he's going to take away his hand in disgust but he doesn't. He's with me until the end, I see that now. "He was going to – to" I try to say it but I can't. If I say it, there's no taking it back. Danny's blue eyes stare straight into mine and he gives me the courage I need. If I can't admit it, I'll never be able to move on. "He was going to rape me," I let out, finally saying the word out loud.

"But you got away?"

I nod. "Dash saved me."

Danny nearly fell off the chair. "Dash?" he blurts out, unable to contain his surprise. I smile, remembering Dash's heroism. He really put himself out there to save me, something I never would have expected of him.

"But, it's been hard," I continue. If I stop now, I may not be able to tell him the whole story later. "I'm, I'm afraid. I keep on seeing _him_, my attacker, everywhere. I can't get him out of my mind." I feel burning behind my eyes.

Danny leans over to me and pulls me close to him. I can feel his heart beating and its rhythm is very calming. "It's okay," he says. "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere." I take in his scent. It's sweet. It's something I know very well. To me, his scent is home, it's safety, it's love. I hug him back and the tears in my eyes flow freely.

"I'll hold you to that," I tease, although we both know I really mean it. For the first time in a while, I feel normal again. It's like it was all just a bad dream. One that I've finally woken up from. And here, in Danny's embrace, I know I have the power to overcome it and to leave it behind. Danny makes me stronger and together, I know I don't have to feel afraid. It's what I love about him. I understand now that whatever hardships might come my way, I can count on him to be there to hold me up and keep me going. Together, we're invincible.

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It was late in the afternoon and the sun was sinking fast beyond the horizon. A light breeze cooled the football pitch. On the front steps of the school sat a teenager. He was tall with jet black hair and brilliant, light blue eyes. He was waiting patiently, observing the world pass him by, with an odd sort of smirk placed across his features. He didn't seem to have a care in the world.

The doors of the school opened and a taller, blond-haired boy stepped out. He had his duffle bag with him from football practice. He looked down at the boy on the steps, annoyed to see the smaller boy hanging around. "What'cha doing here, _Fenturd_? Waiting for a second daily pounding?"

The other boy didn't seem disturbed by this behaviour in the least. Instead, he smiled up at the boy, then stood up to look at him at, almost, eye level. "Thank you," he said.

The larger one of the two stared back at him. "What?"

"I said 'thank you'." With that, the raven-haired boy left the blond behind in confusion and returned home. 'It was something that needed to be said,' he thought to himself, remembering how happy he was to have Sam, alive and well, as his best friend.

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So, what did you all think? Heh, I hope I captured the idea of Sam being haunted by _that_ night well. Well, please R&R. All comments are welcome (although flames will be used to heat my room; remember, there's a fine line between constructive criticism and flaming).

.:Fey Phantom:.


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